


Enlightenment

by day_dream_girl



Series: Enlightenment [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e02 The Sign of Three, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 09:25:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2576414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/day_dream_girl/pseuds/day_dream_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A conversation between Sherlock and John in which they discuss Molly's relationship status. </p><p>Takes place sometime after 'The Sign of Three' and before 'His Last Vow.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enlightenment

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss, Stephen Moffatt and the BBC . This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
> 
> I've tagged this as Sherlock/Molly and Sherlock & Molly, since it's about the relationship between Molly and Sherlock even though Molly doesn't make an appearance. However, I think you can read a bit more than friendship if you squint and try very hard...

John’s heavy footsteps resounded off the wooden boards of Baker Street, quick and determined, like the man himself. Sherlock removed his coat on his way to the kitchen.

“You have to stop this Sherlock.”

“Didn’t you say you needed to get milk?”

“No, I said _you_ needed to get the milk, for once in your life. I don’t live here anymore, remember? And stop trying to change the subject.”

“What subject?” Sherlock turned over the morning paper on the table, giving off the impression of complete disinterest. 

“You know what subject! Pseudo seducing Molly to get what you want from her. It’s not fair.”

“Fair?” The paper was summarily forgotten as he rounded on his friend. “Fair! Nothing’s fair! Life’s not fair!” he collapsed onto the couch.

“Sherlock, she has a boyfriend, a _fiancé_ , don’t interfere in that.”

“I didn’t.”

“You told her he was a grade A idiot.”

“He is.”

“He isn’t.”

“Do I need to remind you of Tim-”

“Tom,” John corrected.

“ _Tom’s_ ” Sherlock glared, “ _fantastic_ murder theory? Hmm?”

“Sherlock, that’s not what’s really important.”

“Meat dagger?” Sherlock looked horrified at him over the back of the sofa.

John rolled his eyes. “He’s not exactly in the crime solving business, don’t you think allowances could be made?”

Sherlock snorted, disappearing from view again among the cushions. “Besides, that relationship isn’t going anywhere.”

“It won’t if you keep interfering like you are now.”

“I am not interfering, Molly will come to same conclusion soon enough. It will never work.” The detective closed his eyes trying to relax in the cramped space.

“You don’t know that.”

It seemed whatever rest he thought he might get would not be happening at all. Sighing, he sat up and rolled his eyes. “Of course I do.”

“Well then, please enlighten me.”

Sherlock frowned at him, unlike other times when he would gladly show off his skills to John’s amazement, the doctor appeared somewhat put out.

“Did you know Molly finished first in her class at university?”

“No, I didn’t,” John replied, frowning. “But I suppose it’s not surprising considering her position at such a young age.”

“And I take it that you also do not know that she has already had an article published in the British and American Journal of Forensic Medicine & Pathology on her work?”

“No, I …wait, was it in last November’s issue?” looking towards Sherlock for confirmation, “I read her article on sudden adult death due to Nontraumatic Diaphragmatic Hernia. She’s brilliant!”

“I don’t know about that, but she exceeds the average human intelligence, yes. Now, does that sound like someone who would marry a _taxman_?”

John stared at him in bewilderment. “So, your argument is because she finished first in college and is well regarded in her field she wouldn’t marry someone who works for the Inland. Have I got that right?” he gestured towards Sherlock, before crossing his arms like a parent reasoning with a wayward teenager.

“Of course not,” Sherlock replied irritated, “although it would still be surprising if that were the situation. However, in Molly’s case, she has exhibited in the past that her tastes veer towards the more intellectual male. She clearly has high personal standards.”

“High personal…? I don’t believe this,” John half chuckled in surprise as he rubbed his forehead and regarded his friend. “You arse, Sherlock! She had a soft spot for you once upon a time and suddenly nobody else is good enough for her? Because nobody else could be as good as you?” He stared at him, shock pouring off him in waves. “And here I thought you just wanted a constant supply of body parts,” he muttered to himself.

Sherlock sprang from the couch in annoyance, John’s reaction irritating him and making him pace. “Of course I require her services in the morgue. Do you have any idea how tedious it would be to try to get what I require for my experiments from anyone else? The paperwork, John! Just thinking about it is enough to put me in a coma.” 

He stopped his pacing and stared coolly at the medic. “And to clarify, it’s _‘has’_ a soft spot for me, not _‘had.’_ And it’s more than ‘a soft spot!’I believe her reaction to me at Bart’s today confirms her feelings for me are still existent.”

He practically preened remembering how pleasant his trip to Bart’s had been earlier. Molly had worn that lovely white and green blouse that suited her quite well. When he’d said as much she’d been more than willing to let him use the lab and fetch the dozen male big toes he’d asked for. He didn’t even have to request the coffee; it appeared at his side just as he liked it with a side order of a Molly Hooper smile.

He had thought confirming for Molly that she could do much better than the mutton head she had currently promised to marry would be a nice gesture. A repayment, if you will, for the agreeable day in the lab, and an act of friendship. John had clearly taken a different view.

“Sherlock,” John’s voice was soft and dangerous, the warning in his eyes holding Sherlock arrested, “don’t ruin this for her. It would be cruel,” he paused, and Sherlock’s eyes narrowed knowing he wasn’t yet finished. “It would be unfair and cruel, Sherlock, even for _you_.”

“Cruel?” he echoed. “How am I being cruel? I have been pleasant and accommodating to her, holding back on pointing out how those awful brown trousers make her look two sizes bigger than she actually is, in case she takes some sort of offence and gets that stupid notion into her head again that she is unimportant. Is it cruel to point out the flaws in her so-called fiancé-”

“Not ‘so-called’ Sherlock, he actually _is_ her fiancé,” John interrupted.

“in order to save her the expense of a wedding, not to mention the inevitable, messy divorce? She’d be a nightmare, her focus and production capacity would be deeply affected.” He paused and looked towards John, whose head was tilted to the side as if he was trying to work out some difficult puzzle. 

“Heaven forbid they ever had children. Pregnancy hormones, maternity leave,” he spat the words out, barely suppressing a shudder. “And then the constant worry of the effect the divorce will have on the children. Just think of the children, John!”

“The children,” John repeated slowly, “so you acting like a prat is meant to save Molly’s future children from emotional scarring by preventing her from having them in the first place?”

Sherlock frowned, “you are deliberately misconstruing my reasoning, John, and I won’t tolerate it.” 

He marched towards his room, John’s voice following him.

“He’s nice to her, Sherlock.”

“So is that damn cat,” he called over his shoulder, “but I don’t think she should marry him either!”

The slamming of the door was the last method of communication Sherlock made for the rest of the day.


End file.
